


On the Construction of Rituals

by ethereousdelirious



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
Genre: Apologies, Caretaking, Character Study, Gen, M/M, Sickfic, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:09:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28721922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethereousdelirious/pseuds/ethereousdelirious
Summary: Another short Nick sickfic, this time written for a challenge on TumblrNick gets sick, Jay looks after him, I'm not exactly reinventing the wheel here
Relationships: Nick Carraway & Jay Gatsby, Nick Carraway/Jay Gatsby
Comments: 7
Kudos: 95





	On the Construction of Rituals

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like my summaries get worse and worse each time but I am a one trick pony and there's only so many ways you can say "X gets sick, Y looks after them" haha
> 
> Anyway, this is old-ish and was originally written for a perspectives prompt. I let it get away from me, so re-wrote it and decided to post it.  
> There were three prompt words/phrases, but I only remember "nausea" and "sorry I'm so sick." The last one will remain a mystery 🤷🏼♀️

Jay Gatsby was not a man with tendencies toward self-reflection or self-congratulation, though he did occasionally find himself indulging in moments of pride. His plan to win Daisy back was progressing as smoothly as a sailboat through still water and he foresaw no storms on the horizon.

This was due in no small part to the interference of one Nick Carraway, a man who, try as he might, Jay simply couldn't fathom.

Nick made weak protests against adultery while arranging meetings for Jay and Daisy. He outwardly rejected the excess of the era yet overindulged constantly. He seemed to have no goals for himself nor any regard for his own happiness and quite frequently let himself get talked into things he didn't want to do despite making protestations he seemed to really believe. Simply put, he was the most honest dishonest man Jay had ever met, and Jay didn't know quite what to make of him.

He was  _ also _ the linchpin by which the cogs of Jay's plan turned, and Jay felt he was owed some compensation in that regard. So, Jay tried his best to make Nick happy whenever he could. This mostly involved diverting him with activities and day-trips, as Nick was loathe to accept any gift except for the occasional purchase of a liquid lunch downtown.

Today, they were supposed to go sailing just the two of them: a proper gentleman's voyage.

Jay waited in the vast foyer of his home, sedate, with drink in hand. It was for Nick, not for him, and condensation was already starting to gather in the handkerchief in which the glass was swaddled.

There was a timid knock at the door and Jay sprang up to answer it, having dismissed his butler for the afternoon.

Nick blinked in surprise at seeing Jay, but then he smiled and Jay's chest went warm. "Good afternoon."

"Afternoon, old sport." Jay winked and stepped aside so Nick could come in. He walked slowly, like a wounded soldier, and the satisfaction still blooming in Jay's chest dissipated like sea spray. "Are you quite alright?"

"Oh." Nick's shoulders tensed. It wasn't a 'yes' and Jay's mind was already shifting to possible ailments and possible cures.

"Sit down," Jay said, guiding Nick over to a chair. He watched as Nick sat down, again with gentle movements. Whether subconsciously or deliberately, he seemed to be shielding his belly, with one hand tucked away inside his blazer.

"I'm really alright," Nick protested even as he sat. His face was wan, his brow slightly furrowed.

"You're ill," Jay guessed.

"I'm sure it's nothing. I'll be alright."

"You certainly don't look alright." Jay leaned in. "May I?"

Nick looked at him in pensive silence before giving a curt nod and averting his eyes. Without fanfare, Jay cupped his hand at the side of Nick's neck, pressed his knuckles to Nick's cheek, then laid his hand flat against Nick's forehead. He didn't miss the shivers that ran through Nick every time Jay's hand touched his skin.

Jay shook his head. "You're warm."

"I'll go home," Nick said, with eyes still averted like a guilty child.

"I won't allow it."

"Jay--"

"I'd go mad with worry. Please stay. For my sake."

Nick folded like Jay knew he would. "Alright."

"Good." Jay smiled to help Nick feel more at ease. "Now, please, take off your shoes and get comfortable. I'll have you right as rain in no time. You'll be okay."

Nick swallowed and untied his laces. Shaky, unsure, he pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "I'm sorry for the trouble."

"No trouble, old sport." Jay waved a hand. "Now." He sat down beside Nick. "Other than that fever, what's troubling you?"

Again, Nick swallowed hard, and shifted uncomfortably like he couldn't get comfortable. "I feel a little," he made an esoteric hand gesture, "sick."

"Good thing I didn't drag you out on a sailboat," Jay said. "Do you feel like you need a bin?"

Nick shook his head and curled in tighter on himself. "No," he said, sounding so perfectly miserable that Jay's heartstrings threatened to tie themselves up in a bowline knot. Nick let his head rest on his knees.

He must have been feeling really awful, and Jay was just sitting there staring at him like a simpleton. "Wait here a moment, old sport." He got up and, bypassing his staff, wet a cloth at the kitchen sink.

Nick was in the same position that Jay had left him in, and didn't so much as stir when Jay sat down beside him.

"Here," said Jay. He draped the cloth over the back of Nick's neck. "For the fever."

"Thank you, Jay," Nick mumbled into his knees.

Then silence. Jay fought not to bite his lip as the discomfort of helplessness descended on him like an osprey on the hunt. Rarely did he encounter a problem that couldn't be solved through hard work or with money, and he wasn't sure what Nick needed in order to feel better.

"Are you alright, old sport?" he asked, determined to get to the bottom of things. "You seem upset." He almost added an extra 'I hope I haven't offended you' but caught himself. This was  _ Nick, _ after all. They were friends.

Nick raised his head so he could look at Jay. "I…" He hesitated. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be such a bother."

" _ Nick _ ," Jay said, forgetting himself for a moment. "You could never be a bother to me.  _ Never _ . Now." He clapped once. "Can you handle the stairs? I'm sure you'd be much more comfortable in bed."

Nick's face colored and Jay's heart froze for a moment before he realized that Nick was blushing. "Really, I should go," he said. He stood up, removing the cloth from the back of his neck with one fluid motion.

"I'd much prefer it if you stayed," Jay said, suddenly acutely aware that he meant it beyond mere propriety. The idea of sending Nick home in this state, even accompanied-- It seemed cruel. He stepped in front of Nick's and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. Even through Nick's jacket, the heat of his fever warmed Jay's palm. " _ How _ can I make you stay, old sport? Do you want me to beg?"

The blush faded, by degrees, from Nick's face. He looked helplessly at Jay. "I just don't want to be an inconvenience to you, is all."

"Then do exactly as I say." Jay turned on his heel and indicated that Nick should follow him upstairs. Nick did, still in that wary, shuffling gait, like he was afraid someone might attack him. Jay took the stairs at a deliberate pace so Nick could keep up without exerting himself. The stiffness in his shoulders and gentle curve of his back spoke of a stomach ache that he was understating. "All right?"

"Fine," Nick said. He didn't look  _ worse _ , so Jay left it at that.

He led Nick to the guest room that was in closest proximity to Jay's own suite.

"There," Jay said happily, once he had installed Nick in the massive four-post canopy bed that dominated the near wall. "I'll have someone bring your shoes up."

Nick nodded. "Thanks," he said, and then swallowed hard.

Jay had been seasick enough times as a youth to recognize the warning signs of intense nausea. "I'll get a bin," he said, dashing for the bathroom with as much tact as he could muster.

When he returned to the bedside, Nick had curled up on his side and squeezed his eyes shut. His breathing had gone shallow and his face was as pale as the sheets he lay on. Jay froze. It wasn't often that he found himself in a place where he had  _ no idea _ what to do.

Nick was clearly suffering, but it wasn't likely that he would admit it, and the last thing Jay wanted was to upset him by overreacting.

"Do you-- Should I--" Jay stammered, reaching for a plan of action that just wasn't there.

"I'm sorry," Nick said. 

"For what, old sport"? Jay asked, feeling more helpless than he ever had.  _ He _ should be the one apologizing.

Nick shrugged with one shoulder. "Sorry I'm so sick. I know you're a busy man and I-- I really didn't mean to put you out like this."

"That is true," Jay admitted. "I  _ am _ a busy man. But I can promise you this, old sport: I'll never be too busy for you."

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading and let me know if you see any typos, etc 
> 
> Anyway, let's consider my posting this a celebration of TGG becoming public domain! Cheers 🍻


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